In Her Eyes

While I was in nursing school, our instructor told us to make something creative to present our experiences after working in a psychiatric unit. I decided to write a poem about my first patient who had dementia.

In Her Eyes

After 85 years she has come to this place,

A woman with tears in her eyes.

Her thoughts are as clear as the look on her face,

But no one will hear her cries.

The years have crippled her delicate frame.

She limps as she crosses the floor.

On paper she's nothing more than a name,

But deep in her eyes there is more.

As she unfolds her sad tale of days gone by,

And the way that things used to be,

My listening ear gives her wings to fly,

And she shows her true colors to me

.

The woman she was before all of the pain,

Was a person just like you and me.

Her family and friends had all left their stain

On the woodwork of her precious dream.

I take her small hand and I place it in mine,

Not knowing the wounds it would mend.

She thanks me for being so caring and kind,

The acts of a dear and true friend.

As we say our farewells and I turn for the door, 

I see something I recognize.

My own reflection in the mirror was no more

Than the woman I saw in her eyes.

Dana Lyn Bartschi - Epitaph

When I was a Junior in high school, our English teacher gave us an assignment to write an epitaph poem about our life. This is what I wrote when I was 17-years-old.

Dana Lyn Bartschi

Born on a cold and wintry day

Dana Lyn Bartschi was the child’s name.

Asleep in the cradle there, she lay

Dreaming of heaven from whence she came.

Her parents stood watching, admiring with care

The baby girl that was lying there.

Her porcelain white skin and her jet black hair

Looked radiant in the midnight air.

The years went by and the child grew.

Her hair turned brown and her eyes bright blue.

Adventure and happiness was all she knew.

Life was a fairy tale for her that came true.

As the years passed on, she had reached her teens.

Ribbons and bows changed to t-shirts and jeans.

In high school she learned of things she’d never seen,

So she went off to college to find what they mean.

A young woman now and a mother of three

Already becoming what she wanted to be.

A mother, a wife, with a nursing degree,

Starting to raise her own family.

Tears streaked her face as she watched her young lad

Receive his diploma and give a hug to his dad.

Full of the memories and experiences she’d had.

Now the house would be empty, lonely, and sad.

Or so she thought, but the years flew by,

And soon she became the grandmother of five

Her home was filled with the laughter and cries

Of her family; the joy that brought tears to her eyes

She died on a cold and wintry day.

Dana Lyn Bartschi was the old woman’s name.

Peacefully sleeping there, she lay

Dreaming of heaven from whence she came.

Rain

When I was in 8th Grade I remember writing this poem for an English class assignment, and after receiving such high praises from my teacher, I realized that poetry was an artistic talent, and I fell in love with creative writing.

Rain

Rain 

Silently 

Begins to fall, 

Dampening the Earth 

Like a refreshing shower.

The sky is a dark heavy blanket. 

Lightening dances through the clouds. 

The soft sprinkle becomes a heavy drizzle.

It pounds frantically against the window; 

Asking, Begging, Pleading to be let in. 

Then, as if to end an enchanting song,

It becomes gentle once again 

Until it comes to a final stop.

The earth is now silent.

(I'm pretty sure it was on purpose, but the format was written to look like a drop of rain)